


2323355 - Phrases to Ruin a Life

by all_my_ships_are_sinking



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Annabeth is a bitch, Cheating, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Cussing, F/F, F/M, My First Fanfic, Nice Clarisse, Nico is awesome, One Shot, Underage Drinking, but it never states their age, mostly thoughts, technically, very little action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:03:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_my_ships_are_sinking/pseuds/all_my_ships_are_sinking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of six phrases that ruined a life, and one that, somehow - despite the initial fear of the statement - put it all back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2323355 - Phrases to Ruin a Life

2323355  
.2 words, phrase; A simple apology.  
"I'm sorry."  
She had heard it before, many times -  
"I'm sorry that we can't tell them."  
"I'm sorry, I have to go."  
"I'm sorry it has to be like this."  
The worst part is how much she wanted to believe it, to believe that the blonde-haired girl really was sorry. As she stood there, in the bedroom doorway of a crappy 3rd-floor apartment outside of New Rome, she knew she was utterly, utterly fucked. She stared down at the white-biege carpet, or up at the leaky ceiling, or over at the chipping purple paint on the walls - anywhere but at the girl standing just 5 feet away from her.  
The worst part is that she knew. She knew that it was a scam, that she didn't mean it, but something in her voice was so compelling that - even though she knew it was impossible - it made her feel as if the other girl was using charmspeak on her, instead of the other way around.  
"Piper, I'm sorry, I'll see you soon, okay?"  
She looked into her eyes, then, and decided to pretend for a little bit longer. Pretend that she was sorry, that she wanted to be here, that they were okay.  
"Okay," she said, quietly, and it was all worth it when those steel-gray eyes became a little less stormy, and they lit up with that smile that made her knees go weak.  
And it was all downward spiral from there.  
.3 words, utterance; a cheater's creed.  
"I'll leave him."  
She wanted to tear her hair out. She wanted to scream, "No, you won't!" because she knew, but she didn't.  
She had always known that she was the second choice, the mistress. Why would anyone choose Piper over 6 feet of black hair and tan skin and green eyes and sweet smile and hero?  
Everyone knows that the princess never leaves the hero.  
So, when she looked up into gray eyes filled with carefully-worded assurances, she knew that it would never happen. She just smiled at this beautiful lie that she called her girlfriend and waited until the day when she stopped coming to her apartment and pretending that this, that Piper, meant something to her. She expexted nothing more and nothing less.  
But the princess never leaves the hero, so she'll just have to wait until her hero leaves her.  
.2 words, assurance; often made with your pinky finger.  
"I promise."  
The words were like a knife to the gut.  
What were they talking about again? She couldn't quite remember.  
"Piper, you're beautiful. Don't think that you're not good enough for me, because you are. I promise."  
Oh, right. She'd heard this one before, too. She knew it wasn't true. She knew it wasn't because she didn't have black hair or sea-green eyes or a hero-complex. She wasn't Percy Jackson; she wasn't even close.  
The whole thing might be easier to believe if it weren't for those last two words: I promise. It should have made it more believable, but it didn't. This is because, however trustworthy the daughter of Athena usually is, she wasn't to her.  
No, when it came to keeping her promises to Piper Mclean, this Wise Girl did not have a good track record.  
Sometimes she thought about asking her to swear it on the River Styx, just to make them both acknowledge that it wasn't true. She was delusional, though, and she didn't want to start another fight, no, please not another -  
\- And so she nodded, just slightly, and watched the other's posture relax without the stress of the lie holding onto her. And this was her life, and it was terrible, it was ruined, and she just really, really wanted to throw up.  
.3 words, declaration; either the most spectacular lie, or the most terrible truth.  
"I love you."  
It was her favorite lie, and she used it often.  
When they were curled up under the blankets of that uncomfortable (but affordable) bed - still high off of orgasms, when they had had a fight and they just made up, when she was about to leave and go home to him. She could imagine her saying it again when she walked into their house, when he kissed her and said it back and held her without a clue of what she had done just an hour before. Except then, when she said it to him, then she would actually mean it. That's the difference.  
She knows that Annabeth doesn't love her, not really, but beggars can't be choosey and she definitely loves her. So if the blonde is willing to stay with her, to lie to her, to hold her and whisper false endearments in her ear, then who is she to turn that down? It's not like she has anything better, not since Jason decided that he liked Reyna better, after all.  
She bows her head and says, "I love you." She doesn't say "I love you, too." That would insinuate that she believes that Annabeth really loves her, which she doesn't, even though she'll never point it out.  
Vaguely, she wonders when she became so weak.  
.3 words, shout; love's evil twin.  
"I hate you."  
Here she is, right back where she started.  
As she stands here, in the bedroom doorway of a crappy 3rd-floor apartment outside of New Rome, she knows she is utterly, utterly fucked. She stares down at the white-beige carpet, or up at the leaky ceiling, or over at the chipping purple paint on the walls - anywhere but at the girl standing just 5 feet away from her.  
How did they come this far? She doesn't know. This-this thing they have has been nothing but self-destructive, masochistic, and painful. She always knew it would end this way, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. She doesn't want her to leave. This relationship (if you can even call it that) is built on sex and lies and secret phone calls and broken promises, but she never wants it to end.  
She wants to keep pretending, keep playing this game for as long as she can, but she doesn't know how to do that. So she does what she's always done, and lets Annabeth decide.  
So she shouldn't be suprised when she storms out of the apartment and slams the door behind her, vowing to never come back. Afterwards, she stands there for minutes, hours, not quite sure what to do. She ends up falling asleep right there, on the living room floor right beside the bedroom doorway, with an empty beer bottle in her hands and a broken "I love you," on her lips.  
.5 words, command; the ending of a friendship.  
"Never speak to me again."  
It has been 2 months since those words were spoken through the phone, with bitter lips.  
She had expected it. What else could possibly come of a call she made while drunk and miserable? It's been 2 months and 3 days since Annabeth walked out. She never told anyone.  
"Pipes, you okay?"  
Just because she never told anyone doesn't mean no one knows. Being a daughter of Aphrodite, she was supposed to be the one could feel other people's emotions (the ones pertaining to love, atleast), but some how the son of Hades could read hers like a book. Maybe it was a child of Hades thing. Maybe he'd just felt so much pain in his life time that he could see it in other people. Either way, it wasn't long before he figured out what was going on.  
Having a friend was nice. He stayed over and played video games with her and let her cry on his shoulder and stopped her from going to bars and getting drunk into a stupor (he made sure she got drunk at home).  
"Pipes? You need anything?"  
She looks up, "A drink would be nice."  
And so he goes and gets some bottles of wine out of her fridge and pours her a drink, and then another, and another - and whenever she drinks, he drinks, too, because that's what friends are for.  
They don't let you get drunk into a stupor alone.  
.5 letters, truth; inevitable.  
"I never loved you, anyway."  
And suddenly, Piper would rather be anywhere but here.  
She would rather be anywhere but here, in this cafe in Beverly Hills, 5 feet away (once again) from Annabeth Chase.  
The Gods really do have a sick sense of humor.  
This time, though she doesn't look away. She looks the blonde straight in the eyes. For a second she wonders how she does it, but then she remembers that with an angry son of Death on her left side and angry daughter of War on her right, she's allowed to be a little more brave.  
She still really, really wishes that they would have waited until they got back to New Rome to eat, because atleast there, surrounded by demigods, Annabeth would have her reputation to worry about. But now they're here, so she'll just have to live with it.  
"I know," she says, clearly, "I always knew."  
Those gray eyes harden, and Clarisse tightens her grip on her arm. Annabeth, true to her reputation, is not the least bit scared of Clarisse. She can't say the same about Nico, however, anyone could see the worried glances she was shooting at the Lord of the Underworld's son. She didn't blame her; it seemed that everybody was afraid of Nico. Well, everybody except herself, but she supposed that after getting drunk and watching Sesame Street reruns with somebody, you're pretty much immune to their scariness.  
Clarisse she had never understood, but really she can't complain, because she's here and she's real and her husband, Chris, is somewhere behind them carrying bags and bags full of clothes that Nico bought them with money he got from his God of Wealth daddy.  
Oh, yeah, there's Chris now, and he walks up to them and asks his wife what he missed and Clarisse - she's brilliant - kisses him on the cheek, glances at Annabeth and says,  
"Nothing, nothing at all."  
And just like that, the tension is broken, and for the first time in a long time she feels like everything will be okay.  
That's the end of the story, the story of the 6 phrases that ruined a life, and the one that somehow, - despite the initial fear of the statement - somehow put it all back together again.  
Finite~

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is the first fanfic that I've ever posted online, so constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks for reading!! ^_^


End file.
